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Friday, 3 August 2012

“Just draw the sun on the wall”

jeered the prison guard, after our inmatestrike of twenty-two days for more sunlight. Released after twelve, eighteen, twenty, thirtyyears we stayed up all night to see sunrise,and colors – red shirts, skirts, flowers, green hills,trees, the beach, and blue sky, bicycles, sea.

Touch had changed. Smooth faces were wrinkled,a child left at two had his own of five,and we could turn a handle, touch a door,open it, shake hands with friends, a stranger,feel grass or sand under our feet. Butif your touch woke us up we’d surely scream.

News had changed. We became human beings.But we felt like strangers at home, with friends –except from prison. We were not heroes.TVs had remotes, shops self-moving doors. We had to learn to choose shoes, our own clothes,how to spend money, and fight the bad dreams.

There were no masks in prison, though we findthem outside. We could not lie to roommatesso we shared thoughts – we read books, learned to think,learned to read faces, words. And to seeliars in many of the world leaders.So we still resist now that we’ve been freed.